Before History
by Flaming Trails
Summary: Those strange days before Doc showed his time machine to Marty. Another PreTime.
1. Runaway, Runaway

Before History

By Flaming Trails

A BTTF: PreTime Story

Disclaimer: I don't own BTTF. If I did, life would be sweet.

  


Part 1

Saturday, October 18th, 1985

Hill Valley, California

1: 21 A. M.

_Doc realized he'd been a total idiot. What kind of responsible scientist trusted Libyan terrorists to steal plutonium for him? Worse, what kind of responsible scientist then ripped them off by giving them a _fake_ bomb made of pinball machine parts?_

_Doc just wished he had thought of these things before he had found himself staring down the barrel of a bazooka._

_He had just been putting the finishing touches on his greatest invention when they had burst in. Einstein had ran to protect him and had been immediately shot. Now he was tied up in the corner of his garage, under armed guard. The other terrorists were packing up the plutonium, as well as anything they could sell on the black market._

_Doc snuck a glance toward the DeLorean. The terrorists had smashed it to pieces when they had captured him. He sighed softly. 30 years of work wasted._

_The leader of the terrorists finally stopped their work. He walked up to Doc with a cold, deadly expression. "Dr. Brown, you American dog," he spat. "You have betrayed our cause. For that, you will die."_

_Doc held his head up nobly. "I stand by my decisions," he said. "I have no regrets about what I did."_

_"Silence!" The leader turned to his co-conspirators and babbled out some commands. They rushed to obey him. "You will see now how those who cross the Libyan United Front pay!"_

_One of the terrorists came back holding a strange-looking chest harness. They strapped it onto Doc, who watched them in puzzlement. What were they doing? "Prepare to--"_

_He was cut off by the sudden arrival of another terrorist, who came in yelling wildly. Doc's jaw dropped when he saw that he was dragging Marty along behind him. "Marty!"_

_"Doc!" Marty was glancing every which way, scared out of his wits. "Who the hell are these guys?! I saw this weird van parked around the corner, and when I came by for a closer look, this guy grabs me!"_

_The leader looked from Marty to Doc, an evil grin blossoming on his face. "A friend of yours, Dr. Brown?"_

_"Leave him alone. He knows nothing," Doc said with a calm he didn't really feel._

_The leader shook his head. "Oh, no, Dr. Brown. Just by coming here, he knows too much." He pointed from Doc to Marty, shouting out more commands. The terrorists promptly tied up Marty, and transferred the chest harness device from Doc to Marty. The leader pulled a remote control from his pocket. "Your friend is strapped to a bomb," he casually informed a horrified Doc. "As soon as I press this -- ka-boom!"_

_"No! No, please! I'm the one you want! Put it back on me! Let Marty go! I'm begging you, let him go!"_

_The Libyans just laughed and walked out the door. Marty stared at Doc in shock. "Doc. . . ?"_

_Doc began to cry. He couldn't help himself. "Marty, I'm so sorry."_

_Then they both heard the click --_

Doc jerked awake and sat up straight in his bed, breathing hard. He wiped the sweat off his face reflexively as he looked around in fear. The house was quiet and still in the moonlight. There were no terrorists, no bombs, no destruction. Just a regular old house.

Doc slumped against the headboard of his bed. For the past three days, he'd lived with nightmares like these. It had all started with his latest invention -- a time machine. The plans had been Doc's pride and joy for 30 years. Now, it seemed, his efforts were finally about to bear fruit. The only problem was the issue of power.

Early on in the development of the machine, Doc had discovered that it would take a massive amount of power to move even the simplest object through the space-time continuum. He had calculated the minimum amount at 1.21 gigawatts. The only things that could generate that much power were either a bolt of lightning -- or a nuclear reaction.

Doc had _not_ wanted his machine to be powered by anything nuclear. Back in the mid-40s, the government had enlisted him to help with the Manhattan Project and in making nuclear bombs. His main jobs had been double-checking the plans for the bomb, then studying the effects of nuclear radiation where it had gone off. Although he had gotten to meet his idol, Albert Einstein, the entire experience had disturbed him. The explosion site had become a wasteland. Doc had found animals who were dying from radiation sickness, vomiting blood and losing their hair, almost every day. He had been very glad when they had released from the project.

So, naturally, over the years, he tried thousands of alternatives to nuclear energy. He had even built a small lightning machine in the vain hope he could get at least enough power to light a light bulb. But with the deadline he had set for himself looming, he had reluctantly turned to nuclear power.

He had built a small plutonium reactor in the DeLorean, then set about looking for plutonium. He hadn't been able to secure any by legal means, so, in desperation, he had turned to the Libyan United Front. They had agreed to steal the plutonium for him if he would use some of it to make a bomb for them. Doc had agreed, having no intention of upholding his end of the bargain. Once the plutonium was in his possession, he had built a dud bomb out of pinball machine parts and delivered it to the Libyans.

That had been three days ago. Now Doc was plagued with nightmares that they'd find out what he'd done and come back for revenge. It was always the same theme -- he would be killed, along with at least one of the McFlys, usually Marty. He hated thinking that he had put his best friend in danger.

He jumped when he felt a cold nose poke his skin. He looked down to see Einstein nuzzling him, softly whining. Doc gathered up the dog and gave him a hug. "Did I wake you up, Einy?"

Einstein barked and licked his face. Doc smiled and ruffled his hair. "Maybe you're just as excited as I am about the time machine. At least, you'd better be. You're going to be the first one using it."

Doc's smile lessened as he said that. The time machine was his greatest invention, no doubt about it. But he seemed to be paying a very high price for finally realizing his dream -- his life and the lives of his closest friends. There was only one thing left to do.

He had to leave Hill Valley.

Doc got up very quickly and threw on some clothes. His mind raced through his options of places he could go. The best place seemed to be Grass Valley. It was fairly close to Hill Valley, but just far enough for him to feel safe. That way he could keep tabs on what was happening in his hometown.

He grabbed some necessities -- food for himself and Einstein, more clothes, his radiation suit, a tool belt -- and stuffed them into a suitcase. He checked on the plutonium under the cot near the door, then whistled to Einstein. "Here boy! We're going!" Satisfied everything was in order, he headed for the garage.

Halfway there, he stopped and looked at the phone, resting with research materials on the bookshelf. _Should I call Marty? I don't want him to worry about me. But what if the terrorists are already on to me? What if they managed, somehow, to tap my phone? I can't put my friends in danger! Damn, what to do. . ._

Doc snapped his fingers. "A-ha!" He snatched up pen and paper and scribbled down a quick note:

_Marty --_

_In danger. Had to leave. Will contact you when safe. Don't worry._

_ Doc -- ELB_

Folding it once, Doc tucked it near the amp, where Marty was almost sure to find it. Satisfied, he continued quickly to the van.

Saturday, October 18th, 1985

Grass Valley, California

1: 53 A. M.

Doc shivered as he sat in his van. It was cold inside the Stor-it garage. He wondered what the proprietor thought of his insistence that he stay with his van as much as possible, including overnight. _Probably thinks I'm crazy,_ he shrugged. _No matter. At least I'm safe now._

On a whim, he got out of the van's cab and opened up the back. He smiled as he looked at the DeLorean. Even in the dim light, he could see how beautiful it was. _It's too bad that more of these cars weren't made. I'd kind of like to have one for personal use._ He gave the hood a friendly pat and enclosed it again. His exhaustion finally catching up to him, he climbed back into the van's cab and fell asleep.


	2. The Birthday That Wasn't

Part 2

Tuesday, October 22nd, 1985

Hill Valley

8: 01 A. M.

Marty McFly skateboarded up to Doc's garage, whistling. He expertly merged the whistled tune with a song as he knocked on the door. "Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you -- Hey, Doc!"

There was no answer from inside. Puzzled, Marty knocked again. "Yo, Doc! It's me, Marty! Open up!"

Still no answer. Marty frowned, wrinkling his brow. _Okay, this is kinda weird._ "Doc, you mad at me? Mom and Dad dragged me off to see Uncle Milton this weekend. I thought I called you." Getting a little frustrated, he pounded on the door. "C'mon, Doc, open up."

The house remained silent. Marty began to get a little spooked. He didn't think Doc would be out this early, and it was too late for him to be asleep. Deciding to check things out before he left for school, he felt for the key under the "Welcome" mat. _Yup, still there. You gotta change your hiding place, Doc,_ he thought as he opened the door and walked in.

The place looked pretty normal at first sight. The breakfast maker had gone off, the TV and radio were on, and Einstein's bowl had food in it. "Doc? Einstein? Here boy, here Einy." He whistled, looking around. "Where is everybody?"

He walked the length of the garage. The dishes were once again stacked in the sink, undone. Doc's bed was unmade -- no surprises there. But then, Marty noticed that Doc's wardrobe was open. Doc rarely ever left the wardrobe open. Like Marty, he had a tendency to wear the same clothes two days in a row. Getting more confused by the moment, Marty checked the garage.

Both Doc's van and the DeLorean were gone.

Marty began to feel rather uneasy. Even though it was possible Doc was out, there was no way for both cars to be missing. Unless one of them had been stolen. . . .

Fright briefly overwhelmed the teen. _Shit! Is Doc in danger?! Maybe he's been kidnaped! No, who would kidnap a 64-year-old guy? Is someone trying to hurt him? Is it about that DeLorean? Jesus Christ, I wish I knew more about this. . . ._

Marty's watch alarm beeped, warning him he had to leave now if he wanted to make it to school on time. Marty ignored it, too involved in the drama he was creating in his mind. _I gotta find out what happened to him, why he's gone. I gotta figure out if I can help him._ He raced through the house, taking note of everything that was missing. _Hmmm. . .doesn't look like he's gonna be gone long. But you never know with the Doc? Now, where could he have gone?_

He went back out to the garage and stared at the spot where the cars were usually parked. Now that he thought about it, this _had_ to be about Doc's DeLorean. Marty knew that Doc was performing some sort of top-secret experiment on it. It was definitely possible some unsavory person had gotten wind of the experiment and had wanted to take it over. Maybe Doc had fled to keep it safe.

_But that means he could be _anywhere_,_ Marty thought. _And that I might never see him again._

That depressed Marty more than words could say. He and Doc were very close -- almost like family. Marty had never felt like he had felt in with the rest of the McFlys. He had heard somewhere a caution against having three kids: "It'll end up that one's always left out." That was certainly true in his case. Lorraine, George, Dave, and Linda formed two pairs, no matter how you grouped them. He was forever the odd one out.

And until he had met the Doc (and later his girlfriend Jennifer), he had been very lonely too. To think he might not see his best friend ever again. . . .

He slumped to the floor and stared blankly at the garage doors, ignoring all the signals that told him he was never going to make it to school on time. _Where are ya, Doc?_

Tuesday, October 22nd

Grass Valley

8: 32 A. M.

Doc flipped the switch next to the flux capacitor a few times. It obligingly turned on and off, lighting up with pulses of yellow light. Doc smiled. "Perfect. If it ever needs maintenance, I can quickly disable it."

He got out of the car and prepared to do a little more work on the flux dispersal coils. On the way, he picked up his pocket calendar and prepared to cross the day off.

He paused as he saw what day it was. "Great Scott, it's my birthday." he muttered, amazed that he could forget something like this. Then again, in his excitement over the car, he might have forgotten his own name.

A surge of loneliness went through him. For the past three years, he had always celebrated his birthday with Marty and Jennifer. It had become something of a tradition for the bunch of them. Now, he wasn't going to have that.

He sat down next to the DeLorean, his work on the car forgotten. He wondered how Marty was, what he was doing in school, what he had gotten Doc for his birthday. It felt odd to be separated from his friends now, even for a few days. In fact, he wanted to return, just for this one day. _It's your birthday, for Christ's sake,_ one half of him argued.

_But I can't go back,_ Doc reminded himself. _I'd be putting my friends in danger. Would be one hell of a birthday if we all ended up dead._

It was a logical reason, but logic had very little sway over emotions. Marty and Jennifer were the only real friends he had, and he was beginning to miss them terribly. _I hope they're all right. I would hate for anything to happen to them over me. And I hope they can forgive me for not being there on my birthday. Know I'm thinking of you, kids._ With a sigh, he got up and went back to work, humming sadly. "Happy birthday to me. . . ."

Tuesday, October 22nd

Hill Valley

9: 17 A. M.

Marty slipped into the crush of kids leaving first period class. He walked casually, trying to make his way to second period unnoticed.

He didn't succeed. "Well, well, well, Mr. McFly. So glad you could join us today," came the voice of Mr. Steven Strickland, Hill Valley High's feared vice-principal.

Marty turned to face him with a weak grin. "Hello, Mr. Strickland."

Mr. Strickland reached into his pocket and withdrew his pad of yellow tardy slips. "Skipping first period? Even I didn't think you could be that much of a slacker. I'll have to call your parents about this."

"Wait a minute, Mr. Strickland. Marty didn't skip first period."

Both Strickland and Marty turned to see Tommy Glover fighting his way through the mob. "I saw him, Mr. Strickland. He came in late, sure, but he was there."

Strickland frowned. "I'm going to have to verify that, Mr. Glover."

"Good luck. Our teacher only just got here too. We had this really ditzy sub. Hey, Rick, Jennifer, ain't that right?"

Rick looked up from his locker as Jennifer made her way up to them. "What? Oh, yeah! Real ditzy. She didn't take attendance."

"Ask anyone in class," Jennifer nodded, smiling at Marty.

Strickland scowled, struck down. He shoved the slip into Marty's hand. "Don't think you're off the hook, Mr. McFly," he snapped. "I fully intend to check up on this." He stormed away, shoving through the mass of teenagers.

Marty smiled in relief as his posse surrounded him. "Thanks for covering me, guys."

Tommy grinned. "Heck, you got me outa a jam with Needles last week. I had to pay you back sometime."

"Lucky we're all in the same class for math, huh?" Jennifer said, kissing him.

"Did I miss anything?"

"Nah," Rick said as they walked down the hall. "The sub was real. She definitely was in no condition to handle a bunch of teenagers."

"How come you're so late anyway, Marty?" Tommy inquired.

Marty's smile vanished. "Doc's missing. I don't know what's happened to him."

Jennifer frowned. "Missing?"

"I got to his house to tell him happy birthday, and he wasn't there. Neither were the van and the DeLorean."

"Maybe he's just out for the day."

"Doc wouldn't up and leave without leaving me a note. Listen, I'll tell you all about it at lunch. I gotta get to science or Ms. Gipe is going to have my a$$ for breakfast."

Tuesday, October 22nd

Los Angeles

10: 23 A. M.

Abdallah Al-Quien smiled as he watched Los Angeles Airport. Beside him, Amina Ali and Amr Ali fiddled with a remote and Abbas Al-Mahid read a comic book. Five minutes ago, they had planted a bomb inside that airport. Now it was destined to be blown to kingdom come, as a victim of the power of the Libyan United Front. "Press the button," he ordered in thickly-accented English.

Amr did so, grinning widely. They all waited for the explosion that would prove their might as a terrorist group.

It didn't come.

Abdallah frowned. "In the name of Allah. . . . Press it again."

Amr punched the button. Still nothing. The members looked at each other, completely baffled. "Amina! Abbas! Go fetch it! Something must be wrong. Damn American products."

Amina and Abbas returned shortly from their errand, carrying the bomb carefully. They looked at their leader with puzzled expressions. "I don't know what's wrong with it," Abbas said, examining it. "Should we open it up?"

"Put on the radiation suits we stole first," Abdallah said, putting caution first. They all dressed slowly, being careful not to jostle or otherwise disturb the bomb. Then, using pliers, they gently pried open the case. What they saw stunned them.

There were pinball machine parts inside.

Amr pressed the remote button out of curiosity. The flippers inside flipped a few times, and the lights flashed, but that was it. Abdallah's face darkened with rage. "Dr. Brown, you American dog! You have betrayed us!"

"He must die," Amina said dully, her face impassive.

"Yes, Amina, he must be killed. Prepare to return to Hill Valley. An insult like this must not go unpunished."

Tuesday, October 22nd

Hill Valley

12: 04 A. M.

"So why do you think Doc's gone?"

Marty swallowed his sandwich. "I think it has something to do with his secret project."

"Secret project?"

"Doc's been doing stuff to that DeLorean he owns. Stuff he won't even tell _me_ about. If he can't trust me with that info, you think he's going to trust anyone else with it? Somebody must have gotten wind of it and threatened Doc. He had to go into hiding to escape them."

"Jesus, Marty, you're making it sound like some big thriller," Tommy muttered, popping some fries into his mouth.

"Yeah, well, it could be true," Marty retorted. "Any of you know what he's doing to that car?"

"No, but I agree with Tommy," Jennifer said. "I don't think this is anywhere near as dramatic as you think it is. Doc could just be paranoid."

"Maybe," Marty said, unconvinced. He looked at his soda as if it had evolved into a new life form. "I've never been over his place without him there. The place feels -- empty. And a lot smaller."

"No doubt. Doc really livens up the place, doesn't he?" Jennifer agreed.

"You ain't kidding. For a 64-year-old guy, he's got a ton of energy. Sometimes even I have trouble keeping up with him." Marty chuckled. "I remember one time last year that was kinda funny. He was pacing and talking like he always does, and while I was running back and forth after him, I fell flat on my face."

Everyone else at the table giggled. "You were okay, right?" Rick confirmed.

"Yeah, Doc actually felt really guilty." Marty's smile went back into storage. "Jesus, I hope he didn't do this because of me, especially if he's just acting paranoid."

Jennifer kissed him on the cheek. "I'm sure everything's gonna be just fine. But what are we gonna do about his birthday today?"

"I don't know. Part of me is hoping that he'll come back, just for today. I know he won't, but I can't help myself. I guess we should at least leave his presents there for him for when he _does_ come back."

"Hey, no problem, Marty."

Tuesday, October 22nd

Grass Valley

3: 21 P. M.

Doc found himself reaching for his portable phone again. He grabbed his hand and redirected it to the radio. _I can't call him without putting myself and him in jeopardy,_ he rudely reminded himself. _I may be lonely, but I can't afford to be stupid._

He went through the channels, looking for something worth listening to. Suddenly, a song he knew very well came on. "Lean on me, when you're not str-oong," Bill Withers warbled. "And I'll be your friend, I'll help you -- carry on. . . ."

Doc was astonished. He and Marty considered that "their song," if such a term could be applied to a song that completely described a friendship. Both the scientist and the musician thought it fit them perfectly. He hadn't heard the song on the radio in forever, though -- it had been released in 1972. So why was it playing now?

As he listened to the song, Doc felt a warm feeling wash over him. For some reason, he felt like Marty was nearby, close enough to at least talk to. "Marty?" he blurted out. He got the feeling Marty was listening. "Thanks. I hope to see you soon." Then he reached out and squeezed the shoulder of the invisible presence.

A minute later, he felt like a sap. Here he was, talking to a ghost in his car while listening to a song on the radio. Embarrassed, he fell back against the seat, glad that there was no one to see him but Einstein. _You need to get more human contact, and soon,_ he thought, turning up the radio.

Just in time to hear the announcer say, "Sorry there, guys, somebody mixed up the records here in the studio. Here's 'Walking on Sunshine' like we said."

Doc stared at the radio for the second time that day. They had never meant to put on "Lean on Me" in the first place. Yet it had come on, just when he needed to hear it.

Suddenly, Doc needed very much to get away from all this. "Einstein! Come here boy! We're going out!" He took one last shocked look at the radio, then quickly made his way out of the garage.

_Meanwhile, in Hill Valley. . . ._

"_Holy Crap, this is the amp_?????"

Marty laughed as he watched Rick slobber over his 15th birthday present. "Yeah, that's the amp. Cool, huh?"

"Marty, this is _way_ beyond cool. So way beyond. Man, you are so lucky." He walked up and stroked it very gently. "So, so cool. . . ."

Jennifer rolled her eyes and switched on Doc's radio. "You guys are so weird when it comes to your instruments."

Marty was about to reply when he heard the song that was playing. _No way! It can't be _"Lean on Me!"_ I've only heard that song through Doc's record collection. It's so old, it just can't be on the radio._

After a few moments of listening, however, Marty felt a warm feeling wash over him. Suddenly he got the definite feeling Doc was near him. In fact, he could hear him talking: "Marty? Thanks I hope to see you soon." The teen smiled as Doc's hand gave his shoulder a friendly squeeze.

"Hey? Marty?"

Marty blinked, the feeling fading away. Rick and Jennifer were looking at him kind of strangely. "You okay, man?"

"You faded out on us there," Jennifer said, touching his arm.

"Yeah, I'm okay. 'Lean on Me' reminds me of Doc, that's all."

"'Lean on Me?' They put on the wrong record, Marty. We're listening to 'Walking on Sunshine.'"

Marty stared at him a moment, then looked at the radio. Sure enough, Katrina and the Waves had replaced Bill Withers. "This is heavy," he muttered, startled. "Right when I need to hear it, it comes on."

"Talk about coincidences, huh?" Jennifer grinned. 

Marty nodded, still frowning. _Should I -- nah. They wouldn't understand about me feeling like Doc was there. Besides, I probably just imagined that part._ He grabbed his present from where he had put it down. "Come on, let's hide these."

Quick Note to those who have read "Dark Half": The link did exist before that incident back in 1955. They just couldn't consciously contact each other before the accident made them aware of it. (I.e., they can't actually force their thoughts into each other's minds.)


	3. Hey, The Beginning of BTTF

Part 3

Friday, October 25th, 1985

Grass Valley

8: 00 A. M.

Doc sighed in contentment as he looked the DeLorean over. Every piece was in the right place, every part tested, every curve polished. It was a thing of perfection.

Einstein promptly got intimidated by such perfection and put his muddy paws on it.

The scientist rolled his eyes and laughed. "You hate clean cars, don't you?" he teased the dog, getting down and ruffling Einstein's fur. "I don't think you'll want to dirty this one with your mud, though. That's your portal to the future."

Einstein barked and wagged his tail. Doc patted him again, then set to work cleaning off the mud and mentally planning what would happen tonight.

Friday, October 25th, 1985

Hill Valley/Grass Valley

8: 17 A. M.

Marty boarded up to Doc's house, glad that for once he could stick around. After Doc's birthday, Marty had spent quite a bit of his time before and after school looking for Doc around town, only getting the briefest of moments to check up on his house before racing off to another tardy slip at school. Now, he could spend some time making sure all was well, because Doc was nowhere to be found.

He opened the door to Doc's house, that flicker of hope that Doc might be back flaring up. "Hey, Doc," he yelled, on the off-chance that his hope was true. He dropped the key back under the mat and continued inside. "Doc? Anybody home? Einstein, come here boy," he whistled.

That's when he spotted the overflowing dish of dog food. "Oh, Jesus," he muttered, making a face. "That is disgusting. Where is he?"

He kicked his skateboard under the cot by the door, not hearing it hit against a certain yellow box. "I guess he left his equipment on all week. Dammit, I wish I had known that on his birthday." He glanced up at the numerous clocks lining the walls. "What the -- 7: 54?! Great, I can play some tunes!"

_In Grass Valley_

Doc did one final check on the car. Everything was fine, except that the gas level in the tank was low. "I'll fill it up later," he decided aloud, sealing it up in his van.

He looked over at Einstein, who was sniffing a hole in the corner. His pet was a very loyal friend, but he wanted to share this triumph with someone other than just his dog. He wanted to share it with Marty. He knew the teen would be properly appreciative of the invention. Besides, he had little to fear from the Libyans anymore. Once he confirmed that his invention worked, he would escape into time. And if they had been seriously searching for him, Doc knew they would have found him by now. He retrieved his new portable phone and dialed Marty's number.

_Back in Hill Valley_

After making sure nothing had been disturbed in the interim, Marty went over to the amplifier. He considered it second only to Jennifer in beauty. Wanting to hear some rocking tunes, he started adjusting every switch and knob he could get his hands on, turning them all to high. The amp began to hum.

_And now in Grass Valley_

Doc hung up his phone. "Damn," he muttered. George had just informed him that Marty had already left for school. _Strickland would never put my call through to him. What a rotten piece of luck. I so wanted to see his reaction to this._

He was about to head off with Einstein when a thought occurred to him. Maybe Marty had stopped at his house along the way. Was it all at possible that he was still there? _No, that's just silly. He must have already left. . ._

_Unless he's using my clocks._

The day before he had left, Doc had set up an experiment involving synchronization, solar time, and sidereal time. He had spent a number of hours carefully adjusting his clocks to solar time and setting them all in synch. If he had done it right, every one of his clocks was going to be 25 minutes slow. If Marty was going by his clocks and not his calculator-watch, he very well could still be at his house. Doc quickly dialed his number.

Friday, October 25th, 1985

Hill Valley

8: 23 A. M.

The amp was now at full power, humming loudly. Marty faced it, yellow mini-guitar and pick in hand. Time to blow the roof off.

He lifted his pick for the first strum -- then hesitated. Lately, every mechanical thing he touched had malfunctioned. Even his watch was no longer working correctly. Should he risk it?

_Oh, hell, what's the worst that could happen?_ he thought, bringing the pick down.

He had about one second to enjoy the chord he had strummed. Then the amplifier exploded, rocketing him backwards. Luckily, he landed in one of Doc's soft chairs. Unluckily, there was a bookcase right behind that chair.

As Marty attempted to get both his bearings and the ringing out of his ears, the bookcase tilted, dumping its contents -- loads of papers and books, and miscellaneous junk -- all over him.

Finally, the assault was over. Marty slowly emerged from the pile of junk, taking off his sunglasses to better survey the damage. The amp had been completely destroyed. "Whoa-ho," he said, watching as one last piece fell out of place. "Rock and roll."

Something nearby suddenly started buzzing. Marty's first response was to look at the fire alarm. Then he realized that it was Doc's phone. He disentangled himself from his mini-guitar and grabbed it from the junk. "Yo."

"Marty, is that you?" Doc asked urgently. Even though it sounded like Marty's voice, he had to make sure.

Marty felt a surge of shock and relief. "Hey -- hey Doc!" he replied, struggling out of the pile of papers. To avoid dropping the phone, he held the receiver to his ear with his shoulder. "Where are ya?"

Doc didn't answer his question. "Thank god I found you. Can you meet me at Twin Pines Mall tonight at 1: 15? I made a major breakthrough and I'll need your assistance."

Marty stumbled past the broken amp, pulling free the starter key. "Wait a minute, 1: 15 in the morning?" he demanded.

"Right!"

_If I'm getting up that early, he owes me some answers,_ Marty decided, getting a little annoyed. "Doc, where've you been all week?!"

"Workin'," Doc non-replied. It was the safest and most truthful answer he could give.

"Where's Einstein? Is he with you?"

"Yeah, he's right here."

"You know, Doc, you left your equipment on all week," Marty informed Doc.

"My equipment?" Doc abruptly remembered that he had discovered a short-circuit in the amplifier that he hadn't gotten around to fixing. "That reminds me, Marty -- you better not hook up to the amplifier. There's a _slight_ possibility of overload."

Now_ he tells me,_ Marty thought. "Uh, yeah," he replied, tossing the key away. "I'll keep that in mind."

"Good. Remember, 1: 15 A. M., Twin Pines Mall," Doc repeated for Marty's benefit.

"Right."

Suddenly, every last one of Doc's clocks went off at exactly the same time. The room was filled with bells, cuckoos, booms, and other odd noises. Marty quickly used the base of the phone to shield his free ear.

"Are those my clocks I hear?" Doc yelled over the noise. 

"Yeah!" Marty yelled back. "It's -- uh -- 8 o'clock!"

Doc was ecstatic. "Perfect! My experiment worked! They're all exactly 25 minutes slow!"

Marty hesitated. _25 -- minutes -- slow?_ he repeated to himself. "Doc, are you telling me that it's _8: 25_?" he demanded. 

"Precisely!"

"Damn!" Marty slammed the base of the phone down onto an available table. "I'm late for school!" Without waiting for an answer, he hung up, grabbed his skateboard, and raced out the door.

In Grass Valley, Doc hung up with a smile. "That kid," he chuckled. "Let's get some breakfast, Einstein. We've got a busy day ahead."

Friday, October 25th, 1985

Hill Valley

8: 25 A. M.

Hidden across the street, a well-dressed Middle-Eastern man watched as Marty raced away. He lifted a walkie-talkie to his mouth. "The American dog will be at the mall at 1: 15 A.M.," he reported.

In their van headquarters a few streets away, the other members of the Libyan United Front smiled. Ever since they had discovered that the bomb Doc had delivered to them was a dud, they had devoted their time to getting back at him. Every day, they had sent a plant with a crude listening device to his house to gather information. They had considered breaking in, but decided that carried too much risk of being discovered. Now their work had finally paid off. "Good work," Abdallah replied. "Abbas and I will catch him there,"

"He will have another with him," the plant, Amr, warned.

"Then that other will die too." He turned off his walkie-talkie.

Abbas, who had been outside the car working on the engine, kicked the tire of their Volkswagen van, frustrated. "Stupid American car. Stupid stupid stupid!"

"The engine not working again?" Abdallah sighed, annoyed. "If not for that damn bomb, we could have bought a better car. The American dog will pay." He snapped his fingers. "Amina! Come here and help us!"

Friday, October 25th

8: 43 A. M.

Marty walked into history class, showing his yellow tardy to his teacher. "Late again? Marty, you are living proof history repeats itself." The class giggled. "I take it you were over Dr. Brown's house."

"He set all his clocks 25 minutes slow," Marty explained, taking his seat.

"Oh. Well, I suppose it's too late to tell you what a lunatic he is. Therefore, I will continue with the lecture you so ceremoniously interrupted."

Marty's face burned as he yanked out his notebook. One thing he could say for Strickland -- he was up front about not liking you. Mr. Vince Lette hit you below the belt.

His anger dissipated as he thought about the phone call, though. Even though it had earned him his fourth tardy, it was comforting to know Doc was still out there, safe and ready to see him again.

He wondered about Doc's cryptic instructions. What did Doc want to show him? Had he finally completed his work on that DeLorean? Marty hoped that was it. He had been wondering what Doc had been doing to that car for three years. _I just wish he hadn't chosen such an early time to show me the damn thing. Waking up at one o'clock in the morning is harsh. Especially for a Saturday._

He idly doodled stick figures in his notebook, drawing himself, Jennifer, and Doc. Mr. Lette was going on and on about the 1950s. _Boring,_ Marty thought, contemplating sneaking on his headphones. _Yeah, some cool stuff came from the 50s, but it's all in the past now. And I'm not going to the past anytime soon._

Friday, October 25th

11: 10 P. M.

Doc smiled at the sign reading, "Hill Valley. A Nice Place To Live." _Ah, home sweet home. You never know how much you care for and miss your home until you're forced from it._

He wondered if the Libyans were still around. He had dismissed them earlier, but being back in Hill Valley was starting to make him nervous again. _If they _are_ still searching for me, I hope they don't find me before 1: 15 A. M. Once I verify that the DeLorean's safe, I'm going to the safest hiding place there is -- the future._ Doc crossed his fingers.Please_ let luck be with me tonight._

He pulled up at his home and quickly went inside. The plutonium was still under the cot by the door, thankfully. And now three gift-wrapped boxes sat atop it. Doc grabbed his radiation suit from where he had hidden it, scooped all the boxes up, and was back out the door. 

He made a pit stop at the Burger King's drive-thru for an order of fries, then proceeded to Twin Pines Mall. Despite the late hour, there was still a couple of cars in the parking lot. "Must be either security or two _very_ indecisive shoppers," Doc said to Einstein through a mouthful of fries.

He got into his radiation suit, then opened his presents. Jennifer's gift was a new pair of velcro-strap shoes. _A perfect addition to my suitcase,_ Doc thought cheerfully. The band had gotten together and given Doc a new clock -- always a welcome gift. Setting it on the dashboard, he opened up Marty's present.

Laughter tore itself from his throat as he saw what it was. "Great Scott," he chuckled. "How appropriate, too. After all, time travel is certainly Weird Science! I wonder where he got the soundtrack from. Thanks, Marty, I needed a good laugh."

The other two cars finally left. Doc was free to test his remote-control access in and out of the back of his van. Everything seemed to work out perfectly. Smiling, Doc packed his new shoes and prepared to wait in the DeLorean until Marty got there so he could make the proper entrance.

As he hopped in, though, he realized that he had forgotten something. Something very important. Something crucial to the experiment.

His video camera.

"Damn! Damn damn!" Doc snapped, annoyed with himself. _How could I have not picked it up? It was right on my bed!_

Well, it was too late for incrimination now. He got back out and grabbed his portable phone.

Friday, October 25th

12: 28 P. M.

Marty usually fell asleep in an odd position and fully dressed, due to the fact he almost always was doing something up to the moment he fell asleep. Tonight was no exception, and he was out cold in a position that would give any normal human being a full-body ache. Nearby lay his guitar and some music, indications of what he'd been doing before he'd passed out. Above his head, Eric Clapton sang softly on his clock radio.

The phone suddenly rang. Marty first tried to nuzzle the pillow, then recognized the sound and sleepily reached for the phone. "Hello?"

"Marty! You didn't fall asleep, did you?" Doc demanded, partly in jest and fully expecting a "yes" answer.

Marty sat up, pulling himself closer to "full alert." "Doc!" he said, looking at both his watch and his clock radio. "No -- no, don't be silly."

Doc blinked at the obvious lie, but let it slide. "Listen, this is very important. I forgot my video camera. Can you pick it up on your way to the mall?"

Marty grabbed a chocolate candy and popped it in his mouth to provide him with some energy. "Sure. I'm--" he paused to chew and yawn a little "-- on my way."

He hung up, yanked on his jean jacket, then shrugged on his down vest. He stuffed his pillows under the sheets to make a Marty decoy, silently wondering why he was bothering. His parents weren't going to check up on him. Still, it seemed like the thing to do when sneaking out. He grabbed his skateboard from the closet and opened his window. It started to slide closed again, but Marty quickly caught it and pushed it back up. With a quick jump, he was in the backyard.

He made his way out the front gate and walked a few blocks. A couple of years ago, he had discovered how noisy a skateboard could be when he was sneaking out to meet some friends. His mother had overheard and come after him in the car. Even though the car had been wrecked by Biff Tannen, he didn't want to risk a repeat.

Marty scowled as he thought the name. It reminded him of how crappy his evening had been. After he had finished cleaning up Doc's place, he had come home to find the crushed Plymouth. His father, George, had done nothing, as usual. Then he had had to suffer through a dinner of his mother calling Jennifer a "bad girl" and recounting how she had met George. Marty had heard the story so many times, it was burned into his brain. _Why does she insist on telling it?!_

At least his call to Jennifer hadn't been so bad. They had shared some time b*tching about how weak George was and promising each other to try and find alternate transportation to the lake. He was so lucky to have a girlfriend who understood his family. And to have a best friend who could take him away from it.

He arrived at Doc's place around 12: 55 A. M. It only took a moment for him to grab Doc's JVC camcorder, then he was off to the mall. He yawned loudly, then sighed. "For me to get up this early, Doc, you'd better have something great planned," he muttered.

The End


End file.
